


it must be that old evil spirit (so deep down in your ground)

by solar_crystals (moonlit_aura)



Series: and death shall have no dominion [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Betrayal, Descent into Madness, Gen, Murder, Possession, The Sky Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlit_aura/pseuds/solar_crystals
Summary: two boys wake up alongside each other once again, way too aware of what is going on.or:how the bond between wilbur and schlatt fractures.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot
Series: and death shall have no dominion [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011228
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	it must be that old evil spirit (so deep down in your ground)

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: unlike in my previous works, reading part 1 before part 2 (this one) is crucial to understand it.
> 
> SO HOW ARE WE FEELING AFTER THE WAR, GUYS?  
> I, for one (after struggling to cope for like two days), am GREAT! You know why??? Because I don't need to revamp the story with how the plot developed!!! HA!!!!! (Wilbur Soot is such a fantastic writer, though, guys. It's literally so amazing. I just don't know what to say.)  
> Okay, so I don't actually know when I wrote this? I was literally so busy this week, but I somehow got it all out of my head.  
> There is a fragment at the very end which I added at literally the last second, that may or may not allude to the later existence of Ghostbur. Yes, it's the creepy one and yes, I literally added a dead-ass jumpscare sound. Hee-hee.  
> You already know I:m using the original videos as more of an outline than a strict timeline, but just a reminder that I *am* taking some creative liberties.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy? I might be getting faster - it's the most I've written in the shortest time, I think. Must be a treat for you guys sksks
> 
> TITLE: Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin
> 
> find me on twitter: @nightmareofhers

the second time they wake up next to each other, they remember everything, and the first thing schlatt does after they stand up from their laying positions is punch wilbur square in the face.

“what the _ fuck _ were you thinking?!” he screams out, gritting his teeth and screwing his eyes shut.

wilbur keeps his head hanging to the side, looking down. his arms are folded protectively around his stomach and his cheek is already starting to bruise.

“it worked, didn’t it?” he finally mutters.

for a moment schlatt gapes at him, looking like he’s about to punch him again. he lowers his fist though and looks aside. he wants to ask ‘are you alright?’, ‘what made you think it was a good idea?’, ‘do you care so little about yourself?’. instead, he just says shakes his head and backs away, saying in a raspy voice,

“i’m gonna go find a safe place to stay.”

he walks away, hiding a grimace from wilbur, who is still standing still, biting his lip and digging nails into his arms.

* * *

turns out, it’s kind of hard to talk to someone you literally watched jump off a cliff and die.

the thing is, they really  _ should  _ talk. they should discuss what happened between them and how they feel these days, and how exactly they’re alive and safe again.

luckily, fate - or something slightly more tangible than that - rids them of having to talk about the latter, at least.

they are gathering supplies in the forest when schlatt says,

“wilbur, can you come over here and tell me if i’m going crazy?”

this isn’t really something you say between two people who are most likely in the process of going crazy and they have established that a long time ago. this is precisely why wilbur rushes to schlatt immediately, despite whatever tension is between them.

“what’s going on?”

schlatt points at a lava pool below them.

“is that me, or was that thing... smaller when we were here a week ago?”

wilbur’s eyes widen and he stumbles back.

“i thought it was over,” he lets out a shaky whisper. “i thought that…”

he doesn’t finish. he doesn’t need to.

* * *

they manage to establish a theory on their way home.

wilbur felt mostly fine except for some occasional whispers in his head so they naturally assumed that it was all over. they were obviously very wrong and the only logical explanation for why this was happening was that whatever was looking over them took it out of their hands, most likely because of the act of rebellion will committed before they woke up here.

“so what, i’m too untrustworthy to lead us to our demise, huh? too unpredictable to be fucking possessed?!” he shouts at the sky and grimaces when a cold shiver goes through him.

meanwhile, schlatt walks back and forth behind him.

“fuck. fuck. wilbur. what are we doing with that?”

wilbur looks at him and sits down on the grass with a shaky exhale.

“what do they even get from doing this,” he croaks out, his throat sore. “i don’t understand. why do this?”

the other settles next to him. they sit in silence for a long time.

“that’s it,” finally says schlatt. “that’s it! they don’t get anything out of it if we die, they just want to see us panic and run around!”

“so what? what are we doing with that?” mumbles wilbur.

“think!” the boy gets up and gesticulates wildly in front of the other. “they have to control all this to make us do what they want and that means they can stop it! let’s just get as many supplies as we can and go up! they’ll get bored!”

“what if they think of something worse then?”

“we’re gonna burn either way, might as well not go without a fight.”

wilbur looks to his side, biting his lip.

“...okay. i’m trusting you with this.”

* * *

_ (except after this evening of planning eerie whispers appeared in schlatt’s head. sometimes he lost focus to the point of listening to them and giving in to the urges that were there even before the voices and that he thought he had under control already.) _

_ (almost every time will entered the house, he had to physically hold himself back from attacking him and it was getting harder each time.) _

_ (the worst part was that he started wondering why he’s holding himself back, though. not long after that, the once foreign voices in his head began sounding like his own.) _

_ (in the chaos of gathering supplies and getting ready to climb up, wilbur didn’t notice a thing.) _

* * *

“i think we’re ready.”

“you think so?” mumbles schlatt, not looking up from sharpening his axe.

“even if we weren’t, you must’ve noticed how hot it has gotten and how fast the lava started rising lately. it’s going to be here soon, two days tops.”

schlatt did indeed notice. he was carefully tracking the rise each day.

“so i say we head out. we’ve got everything packed anyway. there’s nothing else here that we can take.”

that was true. it wasn’t like their first home which they made when things seemed simpler and which held memories - the good and the bad. the building they were in right now was just that - a building. a house, not a home.

“sure.”

it took everything in schlatt to fight the urge of locking wilbur in the house he knew would burn down in a day or so.

* * *

they build up carefully. it’s not like before - falling into the water from a big height would hurt but it wouldn’t be lethal. this time they can’t afford to make a single mistake. on the other hand though, they can’t take their time because what is happening is not natural. someone who controls it may want them dead and have very fast ways to achieve that.

they build up the tower from the highest, sturdiest tree nearby, making the steps of the ladder on the go. it didn’t need to be well-made, its only purpose was getting them higher up after all.

after a long period of non-stop climbing they make a small platform, agreeing to rest for just some time. it’s dark anyway, they barely see a thing, wilbur justifies. they should sleep.

except schlatt doesn’t sleep. he lays with his eyes wide awake until wilbur falls asleep. he glances at his sleeping best friend and the voices layer over each other into one coherent message, a chant of  _ choke him, kill him, break apart, push down, strangle, make him suffer, kill, kill, _ **_kill-_ **

schlatt grits his teeth and screws his eyes shut. 

he looks the other way, peering over the edge to see the lava burning down the trees below. it’s an image of hopelessness and he lets out a hysterical chuckle. climbing up was his idea but their tempo is slower than they thought.

_ his fault. kill him. show who’s stronger. _

and suddenly, like a bucket of ice-cold water, the realization that they are fucking right pours over him - wilbur slows him down. he’s not good enough. he’s not strong enough. it’s his fault this is happening.

in the dark of the night and the silence of the shadows around them, the madness slowly seeps out of the sky onto the mind of a young man, unbeknownst to anyone.

there are no more foreign voices. schlatt is the one in control now. the singular voice inside of his head is  _ his. _

* * *

the sun rises, and they rise with it. schlatt looks down critically. no, it has to be higher.

so he plays along the whole day, making minimal amounts of small talk. shortly before the sunset, he asks to make the next stop. wilbur is a bit surprised by this.

“are you sure? you were the one that pushed to go further as long as it’s bright enough to see yesterday.”

“yeah, but it was a bad idea. we didn’t see anything and we worked slower because of that, let’s just get up earlier.”

“...okay. if you say so.”

and schlatt is above him so wilbur doesn’t see how his eyes glint with gold stained with red, hungry for blood.

“pass me your supplies, i’ll set up a platform and put them there.”

and as schlatt sets up the planks to perch on and climbs up to sit on them, he watches wilbur’s face very carefully.

he watches closely especially when he tears the ladder off the side of the tower it was nailed to, the nails put by him purposefully loose. 

he grins as the other boy yelps and loses his balance. 

“schlatt, what are you doing?! i’m going to fall, stop-!”

he basks in the panic, the betrayal, and the pain as his once best friend falls down with a scream, landing on his back on the platform below them.

and he doesn’t look down as he resumes his climb, laughing out loud. the sun sets, covering this dark scene with shadows.

* * *

the betrayal  _ almost  _ hurts more than the fall. it’s hard to one-up the pain of the fall though, he fell from around 15 meters and it’s honestly surprising he survived at all.

he can’t get up. he can’t even take a breath, all the air he had in his lungs left from the scream knocked out of him by the impact.

_ why why why why would you do that i trusted you how could you why  _

wilbur lays down, completely shaken to the core, shell-shocked and in agony.

it’s a blessing that he manages to black out and fall asleep.

* * *

in the morning he can assess the damage.

moving and breathing hurts,  _ a lot.  _ his ribs are most definitely broken. he  _ thinks  _ that none of his other bones are _ ,  _ but he’s almost certain that many of them are at the very least fractured.

...he’s probably wrong about that but he’s too young to know things like that. maybe he just  _ hopes  _ nothing else is broken. 

he has nothing, having given all the supplies to schlatt. it hurts to think about him, so he stops.

the lava is very close to where he is now. it’s going to hurt like hell to climb the remains of the ladder that stop about halfway to the next platform. the one from which schlatt-

no.

wilbur’s body trembles in pain and exhaustion as he hauls himself up and scales the remaining part of the ladder, and once it stops, he digs his fingers into the wall, driven by the sole instinct to survive, and keeps climbing, even when his digits start to bleed. when he gets to the next platform, the sun has long set, but he can’t stop. he keeps climbing. it hurts like hell, it hurts more than anything he’s ever done, but he keeps climbing.

it won’t end like this.

he keeps climbing.

* * *

once schlatt’s supplies are almost depleted, he makes the last stand with what is left, the very last platform. it won’t protect him but it will make a statement. a final ‘fuck you, i don’t care about your rules’. he doesn’t bother with unpacking supplies. there’s no point.

strangely enough, he doesn’t feel anything. it’s not like he suddenly lost all emotion, he’s just… completely indifferent.

or at least he thinks he is until he wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling someone’s stare on him. and indeed there is - wilbur stands a few steps away from him, glaring at him with empty eyes.

he looks fucking awful - bruised, clutching his side, and baring his teeth like an animal pushed to the defense.

he looks pathetic.

“came back for more?” schlatt sneers out, approaching him. anger swallows him.

wilbur wobbles slightly but doesn’t back away.

“why?” he croaks out a singular word.

and isn’t that a question? why, indeed. why did he do that? wilbur is weak, slows him down, annoys him, and on top of all that is dangerous. they were friends, yes - but that was when things were easier.

instead of all that he just says,

“why not?”

in a desperate move of a madman, wilbur jumps at him. he may have the element of surprise on his side but other than that, everything is against him. he’s weakened, injured, and irrational. schlatt easily shoves him away and pushes him to the ground -  _ where he belongs,  _ the voice supplies. the boy groans in pain when schlatt lifts him by the hem of his shirt.

“wilbur, i think there is a lesson in your fall that you missed.” he sneers. “you’re fucking worthless. i got rid of you because you were a burden, an obstacle in the way.”

and not so long ago schlatt... yes, he could’ve said that but he would’ve felt the regret immediately. now, there is no regret. there is only sick satisfaction when he throws wilbur off the platform, this time making sure he lands in the molten rocks swallowing the world below them. there is a short second of an agonized, barely-human scream when he burns alive. then - nothing. silence symbolizing victory. schlatt inhales slowly and closes his eyes. 

when he turns around and opens them, he hears a deafening noise - that  _ has to  _ be in his head because he doesn’t know what would make such a horrible, terrifying sound in a real, tangible world - and sees a charred, beaten down silhouette of wilbur right in front of him, staring at him with dead eyes. he stumbles back; he has to, the other one is too close and it’s only instinctive to try and get away.

except he’s standing on the edge and there’s nothing underneath his feet once he backs away.

reality shrieks and shrinks into itself before he can release the air that’s still in his lungs.


End file.
